"It is not a state to be safely entered into without doubtful feelings, with half a heart."

i.

Caballero Farms, aside from its seasonal tourism, shipped most of its produce out to national suppliers. But Grace had always been fond of her mother's inclination to sell cartons of berries, and kept it up. She manned the stand herself, and it offered good summer jobs to the local teenagers, especially those who were daunted by field work.

She was reading under the counter on a Friday afternoon, when a shadow fell over her. She looked up.

"Harry?"

Harry shifted from one foot to another, but his smile was less awkward than his stance. "Hello, Grace. I came to buy some berries."

Grace tilted her head. "You look nice."

"I have a date." He ducked his head. "With Rosa? She works here, you know."

"I do know." Grace smiled back. He was a little less vacant than usual, she thought. Maybe the energy of Emmett's companionship had done him some good. "Rosa is a good friend of mine and a wonderful employee. She deserves a nice time."

"She—she's great," Harry said. "I thought…do you think it would be weird if I bought her some strawberries? I thought it would be fun, but maybe she's sick of 'em, after spending all day…"

Grace stood up and picked up one of the prettier baskets. She had artfully arranged some of the choicest specimens in it less than an hour ago. "I don't think it's weird at all. It's a nice gesture. Just don't eat them all before dinner, or you'll be full."

Harry nodded seriously. "Of course."

Grace waved a hand over his proffered money. "On the house. Where are you taking her? I've seen the dress she's wearing. It's very cute."

Harry turned as red as the dress in question. "I was going to take her a little ways out of town…do you know El Loco's?"

"I'm Mexican."

"Uh…"

"I mean yes, I know it," Grace said, laughing a little. "It's pretty authentic. I think she'll really like it. Have a nice time."

Harry beamed. "Thank you so much," he said. "I really appreciate it, Grace."

He had improved. Well, she'd had her doubts at first, and as long as Emmett and his self-styled Midas touch were involved, she would continue to be apprehensive. But Harry seemed sweet, and while he wouldn't do for her, she saw no reason why Rosa shouldn't be happy.

"Don't you think it's a sign?" Julia demanded that night, on the phone.

"Don't I think what's a sign?" Grace asked, around her toothbrush.

"Emmett's protégé and your protégé getting together. Is everyone going to hook up before the two of you do?"

"Shut up. Also, Rosa isn't my protégé. She's my employee, and my friend. Harry is…Emmett's project. Hopefully he's too goodhearted and simple for it to end badly."

"You said he's a nice boy. And you're always hard on Emmett."

"Not too hard."

Julia laughed. "I didn't say that. Emmett's a complete ass most of the time. He totally deserves all the coals you rake him over."

"Wow, melodramatic." Grace sat down on the edge of her bed and pushed the towel on her head back up into place. She never wrapped her wet hair as expertly as Julia did. "OK, so, how's baby?"

"He is still crying a lot. But he smiles at me."

She could hear the satisfaction in Julia's voice. "I can't wait to see him again."

"Is that your hint to visit?"

"You have your Woodhouse, I have mine. It's nice having you around to put them both in place."

"Aha!" Julia's voice snapped triumphantly. "You called him yours."

"I never said he wasn't mine," Grace said quietly. "I'm just not going to marry him."

"Whatever," Julia said. Grace could hear her eyeroll. "The little monster's crying again. At least he's a cute little monster."

Grace stared at the ceiling after Julia hung up. Hopefully Rosa and Harry were having a good time…hopefully Emmett was doing something productive, for once. She had been glad to see him sketch again. Despite his half-promises to his mother, it would have been a waste. He had talent. He only lacked motivation.

So why was she always so reluctant to compliment him? Would it really do any harm, to shower him with compliments like the rest of them did?

It was no use asking the question, even. She had always known it would.

Paco padded in and leapt up beside her, turning round three times as though he was still a delicate puppy, not a lug of a dog. Grace reached up and patted his head. "I am a fool," she said aloud, to Paco, or to the moonlight, or to someone else who couldn't hear. "But only by myself."

ii.

It came to Emmett's attention that Mr. Goddard was of two minds about the friendship that had sprung up between Hartfield House and Harry. On the one hand, it was good for Harry to have any kind of association with the richest family in several counties; on the other, Harry was more distracted at work than ever.

"I wish I could quit being a bank teller," he said. "I'd rather bag groceries."

"Don't say that," Emmett said, in a panic at the thought of any friend of his being involved in such menial labor. Bank work, anywhere below the executive level, was bad enough.

"Or," Harry proposed, still a bit gloomy, "I wish I could be like you, and not have to work at all."

"Then you would have the boring business of being rich," said Emmett, who had never thought it a boring business at all. It wasn't money, that left people alone. It was—well, it was just the way the world ran on.

"Anyway," Harry admitted, "I do have to work. Otherwise I won't be able to…" and then he trailed off, as he often did, with a dreamy look in his eyes which Emmett distrusted.

After several days of Harry's patience, Marnie's tinny reading, and Emmett's fickle erasures, the sketch was finished and framed. Marnie had a friend who did that sort of thing. Everyone admired it—Mrs. Woodhouse adored it—except for Grace, who would only say that Harry had done a good job of sitting for it.

During the weeks, Harry's work shifts still left Emmett without much to do during the day. Grace was working; Noel was working; he thought of visiting Ike and Julia, and then tossed the idea aside. He didn't want to seem desperate. Then, too, there was plenty to do each evening. He just had to get through the days.

Excitement came soon enough, however—and not entirely unexpectedly.

Harry practically burst the front door one Saturday morning. He'd been mysteriously "unavailable" the night before, and Emmett had been annoyed over it. Now, it seemed, an explanation was in the offing.

"I need to talk to you," Harry said. "I went out on a date with Rosa Martinez last night, I took her to dinner, and then we drove—we just drove. And then I—I—I kissed her. I didn't know why, I just did. And now…now she's sent me this." He waved his phone.

Emmett said, with what he considered to be admirable calm, "What is this?"

"She told me she's in love with me."

It was incredibly frustrating, Emmett discovered, when other people wouldn't do what they should with their lives. He could see it all clearly; really, it was spelled out in Christmas lights for anyone with two grams of sense. But Harry was naïve, for all that he was Grace's age.

Emmett thought fast. "Oh, shit," he said, sympathetically. "Well, you can be a man about it and let her down gently. There's a way to word anything."

Harry stopped short, almost dropping his phone. "You think I should tell her I'm…not interested?"

Emmet's eyebrows shot up. "Hold up. I would never—no, no. I would never tell you how to feel. Go with your gut, dude. I guess I just assumed…never mind."

Harry sat down heavily on one of the sofas. "Wow," he said. "I…I don't know…"

"You mean you want to date her," Emmett said. "Till death do us part, and all that. If that's what you really want, that's completely cool. I guess that's an easier text to write, at least."

Harry stared at the ground and said nothing.

Emmett sat down beside him and said, as kindly as he could, "Hey, we're guys. Our emotions are simple to nonexistent. So—I'm just of the mind that if a guy really likes a girl, he's not going to feel uncertain about it. It just sort of is. I guess I misread you showing up here. I assumed you wouldn't need a second opinion if you were into her."

"I always need a second opinion," Harry said, and sighed. "Do you…do you want to read it? I don't know what to do now."

Emmett took his phone and read the text. It was long. God, why didn't people just write letters anymore? At least pen and paper had a certain elegance. But he could admit to himself that he was surprised. Her English was good. She didn't seem super clingy; just sincere.

"It's a nice sentiment," he said at last. "I don't see you two—headed in the same direction, but she certainly seems like a nice girl." Which indeed, he had already thought and acknowledged.

"She is." Harry buried his face in his hands.

Emmett patted him lightly on the shoulder—he hated touching people, unless it was Mom, or Grace—and said, "If she is the nicest girl you can think of…the one you find yourself spending the most time with…"

"Well there's also Marnie," Harry said. He sounded defeated. "I'm so freaking confused now. I thought I liked Rosa—and I do. Her family's great, and she's so sweet, and I have a great time when I'm with her, and she's beautiful…"

"This has to be your decision," Emmett told him, quite firmly. "It isn't the rest of my life."

"The rest of my life?"

"She's Catholic, right?" Emmett said. "I mean, from what I know of her…background and everything, she's not going to be a one-date type of commitment."

"Oh," Harry said. "Well, we've been friends for a year, and I do really like her…" He sat in silence for a few moments, rolling his phone between his hands.

Emmett said nothing. Most people wouldn't understand what he was doing now; but it was kind to be cruel, at the moment. It was for Harry's own good.

Finally, Harry heaved a sigh. "I think…I think I should let her go," he said. "I think maybe she and I don't want the same things."

Emmett thought of asking, are you sure?, and then thought better of it.

"You made the right decision," he said, emphatically.

The furrow disappeared from Harry's forehead. "You really think so?"

"I didn't want to influence you," Emmett said gravely, "But I think you're in the right. It wouldn't be fair to either of you, to keep this going. Especially not now."

"Not now?"

God, he could be so dense. Emmett liked him, but he could be dense. "Marnie," he said. "Marnie is totally head-over-heels for you, dude. You really want to blow that shot?"

"I keep thinking that she likes you, though," Harry said.

"Me? Please. She's just using the convenience of you having a friend to have it be less awkward. Trust me, dude."

Harry nodded, but he still looked a bit dejected.

"Let's go out for drinks," Emmett said. "Seriously, it's something to celebrate. I didn't exactly want to say this, but…well, it would be kind of awkward for us to all hang out if you started dating someone who works for Grace. It's kind of like a conflict of interest, you know?"

Harry didn't exactly look like he knew, but the words had an effect on him. "I wouldn't want to—I wouldn't want to screw up our friendship," he said. "I never thought—I didn't mean—"

Emmett put up a hand. "It's a moot point now. A non-issue." He snatched up his keys. "Hey, I'll even be designated driver. You can get as smashed as you want."

Harry moved to follow him out the door, then hesitated. "I think I should reply to her text," he mumbled.

Emmett pursed his lips. Yes, he supposed, that was a necessary gesture.

"What should I say?" Harry asked.

"That has to come from you. I don't want you to feel like this is anything other than your own words."

"OK." Harry looked utterly lost.

Emmett turned on his heel and sauntered back towards him. "OK, I'm not going to put words in your mouth, but look. You just want to say that you're sorry if you've given the wrong impression, but you're not interested in moving things any further. And that you wish her the best, and she's a great person."

"Um." Harry paused. "Can you…repeat that? Just a little slower? I don't type very fast."

And what else was there to do but exactly that?